Gotten
by Jacal Ste. Worme
Summary: Rogan. Rogue leaves Xavier's school to find herself, and hopefully, forget her feelings for Logan. But of course, Logan would do anything to bring her back—especially if the Wolverine wants to claim her as his mate.
1. Introduction

**AN:** Hello, Rogan shippers/Fanfiction peeps. Because of a request for Rogan, I searched far and wide (in my FF folder) for any leftover fiction and here it is.

**Disclaimer:** X-Men isn't mine. This story will have a mix of comic/movie references. This isn't my best work, but if you're up for some Rogan fluff/angst/drama, well, this is it (I like to think). Haha.

**Dedicated to:** My beloved _**identityless**_.

* * *

"Come back to me," the voice from the other line mumbled quietly. It almost came off as begging, and it probably was.

Guaranteed, had it come from anyone from Wetchester—him, specifically, she would have probably considered it. However, Rogue rolled her eyes and huffed. "Stop calling me, Mystique."

"You used to call me 'mom'."

_Right_. Resurfacing memories were a bitch. Rogue had to pinch the bridge of her nose and squeeze her eyes shut. It was tempting to give in, to say yes; was it wrong to feel a sense of longing to return to the one person who truly thought of her as family? Was it wrong to want some sort of familiarity, a home? She took a deep breath before speaking again. "If… if you really love me…"

"I do. I do, more than you know," Mystique's voice cut sharp against her phone, the desperation so transparent it made Rogue flinch. She should know. Raven was infamous for her natural deceiving nature, and to hear the same person uncharacteristically, honestly distressed... It undoubtedly stirred the compassion in her heart. "Please, Marie."

Hearing her name again made something snap. "Rogue," she hissed, unable to help herself, the pity and warmth retreating, almost disappearing. "It's _Rogue_." Steering herself back to her intended frame of mind—the unforgiving one where she would come out strong, she knew there was no turning back now. "If you really love me like you say you do, you'd give me time and stop calling me. I have somewhere to be, so goodbye."

And just like that, Rogue dropped the call and shoved her phone back in her pocket. She knew it was a mistake to have still kept the number despite Mystique tracing it. Perhaps Rogue still wanted to keep that one last string to her past. Cutting Mystique off would be the last nail to the coffin, she thought.

It didn't take long for her phone to start vibrating again, and all she could do was grumble about stupid, persistent people who can't get a clue before turning it off. She will get a new number tomorrow, she decided. For a while she stared at her gloveless hands—bare for at least a few months now, and she realized she needed a mani-pedi. _Red_, she thought bitterly. _I want fuckin' red nails._

"Need you back inside, Diane!" she heard her boss call out from the kitchen, and she's all but willing to get back in there from her smokeless smoke break, but then she felt _it_.

It was the familiar yet strangest sensation in her body. It was a quiet thrum in her blood. She felt like her ears, her nape, and her core was burning. Her nerves were suddenly tense—a mix of fear, pleasure, and yearning altogether; she knew she was being hunted. Something dark and feral laughed within her, taunting her with a deep, amused growl.

_Told ya, darlin'.  
_

Rogue hated how she'll get fired for the nth time, but it was the casualties of being a professional runaway. With another breath, she was certain it was him. She could hear the familiar throttle of Scott's bike, could almost feel that thick pumping muscle as it beat against his adamantium ribcage. She closed her eyes, imagined him spotting the diner where she worked, guns the engine harder, faster...

_I'm gonna find you._

Trembling, Rogue opened her eyes and dashed out the back door. She leapt into the thick woods first before zooming up to the sky, lost between the clouds and sunlight. Her heart was beating so fast, so loud between her ears, and with her supervision, she saw it—the goddamned motorcycle, the leather jacket and the stupid hair. She hated that she could even smell his musky scent and sweat, just as she could smell his curiosity and wonder: where had she gone off to this time?

_Maybe he'll go away, _Rogue thought hopefully, still suspended in the air. Maybe he'll leave, but of course he won't. He'll stay the whole night—for as long as she was there, he will never leave. As long as they were in the same atmosphere, he will persist. For a few more minutes, she stayed, feeling it was the only time they could be together somehow. So close, and yet so far, but still together in her heart.

He may not love her the way she wanted him to, but Rogue relished the fact that he was looking for her, longing for her—even if it was only friendship that he desired. It was enough. She had to convince herself it was enough. She knew he thought she wasn't ready, and perhaps he was right. Truthfully, she wasn't ready to understand his reasons either. She can't face him, not now, not when she was still so vulnerable.

_Till then,_ she whispered before flying away, "Keep thinking of me, sugar..."

* * *

Logan didn't need to ask the people at the diner if they've seen her. He wasn't going to play detective. Because he knows she was here. Her scent was faint, disappearing into the bland stench of fried food and smoke that most cheap diners had. He could already hear one of the waiters wonder aloud where Marie was, or rather, Diane. He snickered.

He walked away then, turned around to leave, although he didn't return to his bike. Making his way at the back of the diner, he was slightly perplexed to see a thick patch of woods before him. What in the fuckin' world did Marie in there? Mindlessly, he followed her scent.

_Sweet, sweet honey. Woman. His woman—_

Shaking his head, ridding himself of inappropriate thoughts he had for his _friend_, Logan dashed through every tree, grass, and rock only to come at a dead end. So many questions were running through his head. When did she become so fast? How can she lead him on this way? What's with all the secrets, Marie?

_She's here, bub. _

Frustrated, Logan growled. He could feel his inner Wolverine pounding inside its brittle cage. Their prey was here, and yet—she was everywhere. His lungs marveled at the addicting drug that was her scent. Desire coursed through his veins, and Logan was ashamed of himself. The Wolverine, however, burst out in the open.

_Mate. _

The Wolverine's mate was here. He wanted to take her. Bend her over, crush her smooth knees against grass and dirt and fuck her properly. Rut her real good, make her forget her name, make her scream his. He was about to tear through everything in sight when he suddenly froze in place.

_Stop._

_Why!?_

_Because I said so._

_Fuck off._

_Marie—you can't destroy her._

The Wolverine knew his greatest enemy was the one who held the key to his cage. The person who held him in an idiotic leash. The person who continually denied him freedom—the one who kept them separate. Ignoring Logan's voice in his head, he called out for her, "MARIE!"

No answer.

He dropped to his knees, weakened by his anger. He snarled at his incapacity to find her sooner, he despised himself for not being strong enough to truly find her.

_Why can't you see? We need her. I need her._

_Why can't you see I need you, Marie?_

Returning to his senses, Logan was confused. He could never understand why his rabid feral wanted to claim young, sweet Marie as his own. It was easy to fall for her charms, but if he gave in to his instincts, surely he would be beyond redemption! Was he so sick and twisted, to tarnish someone so pure? Those dirty thoughts about Marie had to be forgotten, had to be pushed far back into the dark secrets of his soul.

Sadly, the Wolverine wasn't having any of that.

Maybe it was why he was taking so long to find her. Logan kept giving her a head start, knowing once he finally caught her, he would have no idea what he would do. And as much as he wanted to stop looking for her completely, he just couldn't do it. Sure, Wolverine needed Marie for other (pleasurable) reasons, but Logan needed Marie just as much.

She was his best friend. Marie reminded him of things he needed to keep in his life: his sanity, his conscience, his reason to live. She was his angel of hope. Why would he want to change what they had? He just needed her to see things the way he did. Mixing romance and sex into their relationship, turning their platonic love into something erotic—it would change them.

As of now, Logan wasn't sure if he needed that kind of change in his life. He was afraid of what those changes might trigger. His life experiences taught him one thing, after all; romantic love wasn't for him. True love always complicated things. It always led to death, and then a cycle of grief he never got used to. If only his healing abilities extended to heal the deep scars in his soul.

He loved Marie too much to lose her to circumstance or death. He couldn't bear it.

If only Wolverine and Marie understood him. He was here to bring her back because he knew that Marie belonged with him, and safe at Xavier's.

For a while he'd like for the X-Men to share the burden, point an accusing finger in their direction, accuse them for failing Marie. He left her in their care and they failed. But they failed only just because he did, because he was himself. Marie never really cared about them, she only put up with them because he was there and all the other implications of her 'hero worship', her 'crush' even after all these years…

_Come back to me, Marie,_ he wanted to tell her in person, but all that was here were blades of grass, sky, trees and her fading scent. He heard the soft echo of her voice, telling him to think about her, and all he could do for now, was to stare at the sun.

* * *

**AN:** Leave a review if you love Rogan. :D


	2. Come Find Me

**AN:** Hello, everyone! Thank you for the awesome reviews. I can only hope everyone who followed would be so kind to leave a review just to add some steam for the ship. It's a great motivation for me! ;)

Anyway, back to the story, if you're wondering about timelines, I'd say I'm following the Days of Future Past route. Although I am not religiously and meticulously following all the sordid details, there are elements that I have and will include in the story.

I am also disclaiming any comic references I make; only the Rogan connection is mine, but all the characters are Marvel's.

Heads up: the following chapters are the events that happened _before_ the first chapter, so we will understand how Rogan was before everything transpired.

Let's all hope this works out for the best. Haha. Thank you again and it is much appreciated if you give positive feedback.

Happy reading!

-Jac

* * *

_Six months ago..._

Ultimately managing to grasp the invisible switch to her mutation, Rogue thought she finally had everything under control. All the dreary hours training with the Professor finally paid off. Instead of jumping for joy or doing a crazy victory dance to make the Professor red on the ears, she ran so swiftly to the teacher's hall just to tell Logan... sorta. It didn't matter if he wasn't there to personally receive her news. She was used to his unending quest for answers regarding his past, just as she had gotten used to sneaking in his room when he was away.

Grabbing a piece of paper on his unused bedside table, she scribbled a small note. Rogue couldn't help but grin at her messy handwriting.

_**Come find me, Logan. I've got GREAT news! –M. **_

Rogue was thrilled. Her heart was beating so fast, her fingertips felt cold, and she was certain if she didn't take deep breaths to calm down, she would have puked on Logan's freshly changed bed sheets. Even if it had only been a few years without prolonged human contact, knowing she could do so again did wonders to her soul. Rogue felt rejuvenated and born again. And, she thought, if anyone was entitled to know first about her accomplishment, it was her constant volunteer test subject.

Later that day, when Bobby found out, Rogue thought he would grab the chance to make out, or at least grope her under her shirt, but instead, he had asked several times if she "was sure." Giving him the benefit of the doubt, Rogue inwardly gave it another shot when they kissed deeply for the first time. The result was nothing out of the ordinary, she noted; it wasn't as exciting or hot as she recalled it to be. If memory serves her well, Rogue was more "into it" with Cody before putting him in a coma. Holding hands with Bobby was inevitably the same bland experience. Her supposedly miraculous and joyous triumph over her curse was quickly turning into a date gone bad. Rekindling the passion with Bobby obviously didn't happen, especially not when she kept comparing him to Logan.

Who was she kidding; Logan's smile was effortlessly electrifying.

_Logan_, her heart hammered; what would it feel like to _kiss_ the Wolverine? The thought alone made her feel awkward and funny inside. Embarrassed. Rogue blushed for all the wrong (or right) reasons whenever she thought about touching the gruff man. The simple thought of hugging him, accidentally brushing his neck or his face—it drove her to the brink of obsession. How would it feel to have his sideburns prickle her skin? What would it feel like to keep her hands on him for minutes on end, would it be as feverish as she felt?

However, the longer she waited for Logan, the longer it took for him to return. During this interval, Rogue came to the conclusion about how she didn't want to share her new gift of touch with other people. Rogue just couldn't, not until Logan had sampled it himself. Perhaps the mansion's general population wondered if her control was ever true at all. They probably expected a wardrobe change or a happier demeanor from the resident gloves and layers girl.

The Professor himself had called her to his office to discuss the issue at hand.

"_You have full reign over your skin, Rogue," Charles Xavier said confidently. "What's preventing you from reaching out?"_

"_I don't want _them_ to be afraid," she replied modestly._

The entire conversation revolved around trust issues, and for the sake of keeping peace, she agreed with the man. Much is true, Rogue considered, she needed to learn to trust others too. Then again, it wasn't really just about trust. For the record, her closest friends weren't really terrified to be around her. They celebrated with her when she told them about her new found skill. After pulling the Professor's door behind her, it dawned on Rogue that she didn't really crave for people's approval. She didn't ditch her wardrobe of protection because of mistrust or fear. But surely, Rogue couldn't tell the Professor all their work was for naught, could she?

This wasn't about fear of hurting others, losing control, and it was definitely not about Bobby. Maybe she only really wanted to touch one person. What if she had just become completely disillusioned about human chemistry and romance altogether? Deep in thought, Rogue compared her need for touch as wanting to see the circus. When she finally got the chance to go, she realized she was too old for it. The cheap thrills felt flat and uninteresting. It was peculiar how she had gone from thinking about touching 24/7 into completely abhorring it overnight because apparently, it did nothing for her.

Breaking up with Bobby was easy. Both of them were relieved; Bobby was grateful she had the guts to do it first. That's Bobby Drake for you—always taking after Scott, always trying to be the good guy. Honestly, she didn't and couldn't blame him. Like many others, her ex had spent so much time trying not to touch her skin (and die), and it came as no surprise they found it hard to unlearn the habit. It made sense why sex was the last thing on his mind when she had figured out how to be normal. Good riddance though; she didn't have to feel guilty about fantasizing about Logan anymore. She was also a little grateful Bobby didn't bring it up.

At last, Rogue had her heart all to herself. It was liberating to think about Logan so freely. If only she could tell someone how it was natural for her to love and desire him. Her friends were more wary about Logan than her skin. How many times have they cast a suspicious glance her way whenever she mentioned Logan's name? What more if they found out about her sneaking into his room? How they watched cartoons late at night on her bed? What if they found out she had a Logan in her head for the longest time, and she had suffered relapses after the Professor helped her "quiet the voices"? Her peers would never be able to empathize with her—someone who knew how to love one person so unconditionally, despite knowing said person inside and out, with all the good qualities and the bad.

Oh, if only waiting was easier.

Waiting for someone to love you beyond friendship was truly the best kind of torture. Her cursed skin took a backseat to unrequited love's cruel nature. Although Rogue knew Logan cared about her (well, the Logan in her head had fallen crazy in love with her for some reason, but it's not like he had any choice in the matter), it was nowhere close to the magnitude of her feelings for him.

When Logan came back that particular spring, Rogue shed her gloves and wore something to bare a little skin. It wasn't anything over the top, really. She wasn't out to seduce him, but to give him a clue about the note she left in his room. Sadly, he didn't look for her first. She waited at the end of the line of his various greeters, tried hard not to roll her eyes in disdain when he fawned over Jean (how typical, Logan). When she was certain he was alone, she went to his room only to find the note nowhere in sight, only Logan, in what appeared to be his usual "I'm packing" routine.

After a minute of staring, waiting for him to talk first, she finally caved in. "Logan?"

"How've you been, kid?" he asked, rummaging around the room as she stood _patiently_ by the door. He didn't even look at her.

"Did you see my note?" Rogue felt like a child when she asked, but she might as well.

"Hm?" he asked mindlessly, taking some clothes from the closet and stuffing it in the duffel bag on the bed. "I've got some stuff to..."

She drowned him out. What was she supposed to do anyway? Of course he didn't come home for her. He was probably back to talk to the Professor or Jean or some stupid reason that didn't concern her. "You're leaving again?"

"Eh?" he asked. He stopped moving and grinned at her. "I just told you I'd be teaching classes here from now on?"

Confusion overwhelmed her senses, Rogue felt tears on the back of her throat. "What? I thought you were..." she motioned to the bag.

"I said I've just got some stuff to put away. It's been a long time since I've been home," Logan said. "I had to sort out the dirty stuff from the new ones. But I guess I'll just put all of them in the wash..."

"You're standing there talking about your clothes when you're actually staying...?" Rogue couldn't help but clench her fists on her waist.

Logan grinned at her. "Yup."

"For good?"

"Pretty much." Logan winked at her, put his hands up in the air. "Now, don't get too excited, but—"

"LOGAN!" she screamed, and jumped on him. Rogue wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. The tears fell and she didn't mind. "You idiot! Why didn't you say so in the first place!"

"I did, and I was trying to tell you..." Logan kept her wrapped around his body, cradling her with his strong arms. Still carrying her, he walked to the door and closed it. "You should probably sit down like a proper lady or they'll be on my ass again about keeping boundaries."

Rogue frowned at that and punched him playfully on the shoulder when he set her down on the bed. His bed. She blushed. "You're serious though? You're really staying?"

"Enough about that," he said, standing in front of her, crossing his arms across his chest. "What's this I hear about your powers?"

Rogue laughed. All her anger and frustration gone in an instant. "You big doofus," she said, raising her bare hands up for him to see. "Didn't you notice at all?"

"My, my, darlin'," Logan said, taking her hands in his. He studied her fingers. "You've got soft hands, Marie." He smiled again. "Not that I didn't know that."

It was the best congratulatory remark Rogue received since she gained control. And she was probably as red as a tomato. Somehow, touching his bare hands like this—it was exhilarating. "Logan," she whispered as he looped their fingers together.

"I bet Iceprick couldn't help himself around you now?" he asked before planting a kiss on her knuckles. Suddenly, they were staring at each other, then Logan had to ruin the moment by ruffling her hair. He pulled his hand away.

"Bobby and I broke up," Rogue shrugged, combing her fingers through her hair. She felt anxious when he started pacing the room again. Did his dirty garments really have to take priority now? "Logan, I need to tell you something." At that exact moment, she didn't know why, but unexpectedly, she knew it was now or never. She needed to hear something other than small chit chat. Rogue had been itching for something to happen; how long had she waited?

Sitting on the other corner of the bed, Logan kicked his boots off. "Yeah, kid?"

"I love you."

Logan beamed at her. "Love you too, kid."

Rogue tried hard not to roll her eyes. Her throat felt dry. "No. I mean, I'm in—"

Someone suddenly knocked on the door, and Rogue jumped from where she sat, and if she recalled correctly, Logan exhaled. He rushed to the door and opened it, didn't tell her to hide like he usually did. "Jean."

"I see you've got company," Rogue heard the redhead reply. Tuning them out for her own good, she groaned and tried her best not to look like she was about to freak out or cry. Did she really just confess to Logan? What the hell was she thinking?

When Logan closed the door again, he faced her looking a bit nervous. He had this uneasy feeling on his face, a look he rarely wore out in the open. _Fear._ Rogue inwardly wanted to shove his butt out if only the room wasn't his. "Red just told me we had a teacher's meeting tomorrow."

_I didn't ask what you and _Red_ talked about, did I?_ Rogue resisted to sass him. After all, she didn't have any right to be jealous. "Are you really going to pretend you didn't hear what I said?"

"Marie," Logan said. "You'll get over it."

Insulting as the response was, Rogue didn't lose it. She wanted to counter him with so many reasons why she was knee deep in love with him. This wasn't a stupid crush or an infatuation. Hell, she was drowning with her love for him, but obviously, it was too much for him to handle. Slipping off the bed, she nodded, "Yeah, I should probably go."

Before she left, he pulled her close, touching her arm. "Marie, you know I love you, right?"

Nodding again, Rogue made her exit, hoping it was all part of a bad dream.

Sadly, the rejection was just the tip of the iceberg, because what happens next would probably take the cake.

How could she forget?

When it rains, it pours.

* * *

**AN:** Next up, Logan's POV. Will update soon. Please review for Rogan love! :)


	3. Come Back to Me

**AN:** I did not expect this to be so long, but I can't help it. :x Happy reading!

* * *

_6 months ago..._

Logan laid eyes on her accidentally on the way to the Professor's office. It was just a side glance, but it was more than enough to trigger a myriad of memories and dreams through his head. He hated killing women, and it was a shame that she had been one of his victims. Though she wasn't really dead right now, the memory of killing her was forever grafted into his brain. Other than momentarily reminiscing about her death, he was unable to help the blood from his head pipe down south when he let his eyes linger seconds more than appropriate.

Just to put it out there, Logan had been serious about searching for his past, and getting laid took no importance in his agenda. Whenever a courageous female would approach him, he was almost always never in the mood. How could he anyway? Finding out you had a dead wife in the past was a major mood killer. That, and information overload just didn't work well with his regenerative abilities. His body might heal, but honestly, he was still just a man. He could only handle so much. Many would not believe him, but he _did_ get exhausted. Remember, his power heals—meaning he would have to bleed _first_ before the healing kicked in.

Logan didn't bother denying how much he missed the mansion when he saw it from the distance. The need to unearth his memories wasn't so important at the thought of a warm, clean bed and cold beer. Past? What past? For a man who has been alive for decades (don't say centuries, that's just rude, dammit), he deserved to take a break every now and then. He owed it to himself.

Besides, it's been a while since he saw Marie. He looked forward to seeing her. Catch up. Watch those damn cartoons she liked. Animated programs aside, he knew how "weird" it was for a grown-ass man to seek the company of someone like her, but he couldn't deny it. Marie was good, and he loved to bathe in her light. He was her hero, and honestly, he wanted to keep it that way. The fact he enjoyed snuggling next to her was a secret he will take to his grave.

OK, now that he thought about it, he never slept around whenever he was on his way home because, well... It felt wrong. Thinking about how Marie would accidentally touch him and "absorb" his thoughts, he didn't like for her to see anymore than she already did. He might not be saving her from evil bucketheads on a daily basis, but he was determined to keep her from such carnality. Marie was his only human contact, and it made him content.

Hence, Logan preferred to keep everything PG whenever he was at the mansion. Moreover, it was his job now, right? To be the nice guy? His current thoughts about his past and his need to be "someone who stays" was just the right combination, in his honest opinion. Yes, he needed something stable now, and the mansion solved that problem.

Professor Xavier's School for Gifted Youngsters was a comfort zone. Although his sensitive hearing despised the madhouse/daycare during school days, it was a good kind of distraction Logan was willing to live with. He inwardly liked to be with other mutants, because as a good guy, he felt too much pressure being around humans as of late. He had to be careful not to be too forceful, had to blend in despite his overbearing stature—and even if times have changed for the better for mutants, people still generally worried. Even if his presence produced a positive, lustful response from women, being worry-free definitely took the prize. Or maybe he was just feeling old...?

The thing is, it was nice to know there was a place where you can just be yourself, cliché as it sounded.

Thus, with his mind made up, he immediately told Chuck about his plans about settling in the house of muties for good—something which the bald dude probably asked Santa every Christmas, because Logan swears to this day he got a knee-jerk reaction from the other man.

"Aren't you going to ask me for my social security number first?" Logan asked with a smirk after getting instant approval from the man in charge. "Christ. You'd hire just about anyone who volunteers."

Charles Xavier laughed heartily at the comment. "We both know you're not 'just about anyone,' old friend."

"Yeah, you love havin' me here. Try not to jump for joy, Wheels."

Man to man combat and self defense were the initial courses the Professor offered him. "Unless you want to teach history?" Chuck asked him with a blank face.

Logan chuckled. "Touché, Professor. That was a good one."

The Professor only smiled kindly at him. "And Logan?"

_Marie_.

"She has been waiting for you. I advise to see her as soon as possible."

When Logan left the office, he wondered if he just imagined Chuck gave him a knowing look. For some strange reason, the Professor was oddly understanding of his friendship with Marie in contrast to most of the adults in the school. Well, Chuck was a wise one, and understanding the complicated was his forte.

Pushing those thoughts aside, the positive reaction from the Professor meant only one thing. Marie's training paid off. He couldn't wipe the smile off his face until he saw familiar faces waiting for him at the entrance of the teachers' dormitories.

Ororo Munroe was still her polite and regal self, but Logan was momentarily stunned when he noticed she was sporting a faux hawk—with the sides shaved off.

"Who are you and why do you look like you're out for blood?"

The weather goddess snickered. "You're not the only one allowed to have a cool hairstyle, you know?"

"You think my hair is cool, huh?" he teased, and made an audible _oomf_ when she hugged him.

"Welcome back," she said before retreating to her room.

Turning to his right, there stood Scooter with a scowl on his face. "To this day I wonder why the Professor likes a brute and a bike thief such as yourself. I hope you brought it back in one piece."

"Yeah, I missed you too," Logan taunted before Scott flipped him off and left him with his wife. Which was pretty careless; why would you leave your hot wife at the hands of sex incarnate? "Red."

"Logan," she said with that sultry tone of hers. "Scott doesn't care about his bike. He gave it to you as far as I'm concerned."

He could spot Marie behind Jean's fiery red mane. He tried his best not to look, tried to give Jean his full attention. "The bike is _me_, Red, don't you get it?"

Jean's eyes widened, cheeks reddening. She threw her head back in soft laughter. "Don't try to steal my husband at the middle of the night, Logan."

Logan could smell her from where she stood. Lavender. His peripheral vision also told him she was wearing something sleeveless, showing off her arms. No gloves, too. Her hair was unbound, like chocolate tresses cascading down to her waist, the platinum bangs framing her eager face. She was wearing a skirt too. Marie was excited to see him return. Hell, he wanted nothing more but to kiss her silly because she looked so pretty for him, but it was wrong to think that way so he let himself get distracted by the woman in front of him.

Jean, as usual, was the eternal knockout. Long red hair, perky boobs, and decent birthing hips—she was the woman of his wet dreams. His natural weakness for redheads furthered the attraction. Her being married made their exchanges all the more tempting and borderline sinful. He wasn't aware if she took it seriously, but it was fun. What was a man to do when a woman like Jean Grey sought you out just to flirt? No sane man would refuse, that's what.

Besides, flirting with her was one of the faint reminders that he was still himself. He had traits other than liking beer and chips. He was attracted to seasoned women—not youthful, nubile girls who looked at you like you meant everything to them. Looking at you like you were perfect, because clearly, he wasn't. Logan might be playing the hero card nowadays, but the truth remained that he was a womanizing son of a bitch who had too much blood on his hands. He didn't deserve girls who thought he was the only man alive, especially not those whom he had accidentally killed in the middle of his sleep.

_Marie, what the hell is wrong with you? What the fuck do you see in me? _

Logan knew she didn't stick around while he talked with Jean and several others, and he was grateful to have made it in his room without dirty thoughts about someone with not red hair. But of course, Marie was still going to see him. His senses alerted him she was near. Hesitating. She probably hated him right now for not seeking her out first, but she pushed through anyway because she missed him that much.

_Fuck._

_I love her._

Not in a romantic way (if he did, he would never admit it to anyone—specifically to the Wolverine), but he just knew it. It became more real when she entered the room, with her wide eyes and rosy cheeks. _Dammit._

"Logan?"

"How've you been, kid?" he asked dumbly, unaware exactly what he was supposed to say. _Fuck_, he couldn't even look at her. How could he when he had these crazy thoughts in his head? Nothing was wrong with Marie; what the fuck was wrong with _him_, really?

"Did you see my note?" she asked hopefully.

"Hm?" he asked, trying to ignore the burn of the offending piece of paper that was stuck in the back pocket of his jeans. **_Come find me, Logan._** It was etched behind his eyes. Why did he have to love her like this? Why did he have to love her? Why did she make it too easy? Damn—he was stupid for thinking this. He was _WRONG_. How old was she? Fuck.

"I've got stuff to put away. I didn't realize I had so many clothes." Logan didn't know why he was talking nonsense. But he had to talk about something, right? Because if he stopped talking, his other head might stop thinking. _Stop it, you sick fuck._ Thankfully, she didn't look like she was paying attention. "You know how stinky I can be. Hah. Good thing the Professor hired me because of my experience not my smell."

"You're leaving again?"

"Eh?" he asked, pausing. He dropped his things. For a moment, the thought of leaving her behind forever made his blood run cold. Abandon her like he usually did. But he hated saying goodbye because he hated seeing her sad. Marie knew he had to leave. Besides, he needed somewhere and someone to come home to, and she was safe here, right? Now wasn't the best time to dwell on the past. _Look__ happy, bastard._ Grinning at her, Logan replied, "I just told you I'd be teaching classes here from now on?"

The perplexity on her face made her look adorable. "What? I thought you were..."

"I said I've just got stuff to put away. It's been a long time since I've been home," he said. "I had to sort out the dirty stuff from the new ones. But I guess I'll just put all of them in the wash..."

"You're standing there talking about your clothes when you're actually staying...?"

Still, it was a kicker when she was pissed. Logan grinned at her. "Yup." Was it wrong to tease her when he felt so conflicted about her? But wasn't this how boys treated the girls they liked? Jesus. He wasn't a boy. He was old enough to be her... _Fuck it. _

"For good?"

But Logan couldn't resist her, could he? "Pretty much." Logan winked at her then, put his hands up in the air. "Now, don't get too excited, but—"

"LOGAN!" she screamed, and jumped on him. Rogue wrapped her arms around him and buried her face in his neck. "You idiot! Why didn't you say so in the first place!"

"I did, and I was trying to tell you..." It was elation. Marie was warm and soft. It didn't take much for her happiness to rub off on him. And speaking of rubbing... Logan concentrated on thinking about puke, guts out in the open, roadkill, and other unspeakable, un-sexy things while he kept his arms secure under her legs. Tried to ignore the fact she was wearing a goddamned skirt. He should put her down now, but he wanted the moment to last. Carrying her light frame, Logan went to close the door first, and then finally deposited her down his bed. She looked ridiculously pretty. "You should probably sit down like a proper lady or they'll be on my ass again about keeping boundaries."

He said that mostly to himself, but she didn't have to know that. He felt like laughing when she punched him on the shoulder. "You're serious though? You're really staying?"

"Enough about that." Looking at her exposed skin—so much in plain view, he felt himself feel an odd sense of satisfaction. She was here, so fearless, with him. "What's this I hear about your powers?"

"You big doofus," she laughed, extending her bare palms in the air. "Didn't you notice at all?"

_Oh, I've noticed more than I should. _"My, my, darlin'," he spoke, clutching her hands in his. Just like her legs—her skin was warm, albeit a little clammy. She was slightly nervous. But her hands felt so tender in his, he couldn't help but stare. "You've got soft hands, Marie. Not that I didn't know that."

Logan cursed this bad habit of his. Somehow, he made it a point to brag about how much he knew her, even doing so in front of her boyfriend. It made his chest swell to know he was best in her eyes. And as they held hands, it pleased him to know he was the one who made her blush deeply. Pushing the envelope a little bit more, he locked their fingers together. A perfect fit—with or without the gloves.

"Logan," she breathed his name, and Logan did his best to resume his musings about vomit and Charles doing the horizontal tango with someone—anyone. It was hard to ignore her exceptionally when he was beginning to enjoy the stirrings of arousal in her body.

"I bet Iceprick couldn't help himself around you now?" Helpless, he kissed her hand, and after doing so, their eyes met. Fuck. She was in love with him too. He was one breath away from an erection. He had to do something desperate to ruin the moment; the door was closed but unlocked, anyone could barge in. So he ruffled her hair like he would a child. _Kid. Kid. Kid._

Getting the desired effect, Marie's countenance changed. Her heat had gone. "Bobby and I broke up," she announced.

_They what?! _This was bad. Logan began fussing about the room again. He had to keep himself occupied, or he would stare at her the entire night. Although he never really did like Iceboy, Logan couldn't help but feel another dam just broke.

"Logan, I need to tell you something."

This was trouble, Logan thought. Had she been normally confident? Or was the change a result from controlling her powers? Perhaps. Because if she was going to be this aggressive most of the time, it was going to be real torture for him. Why did he have to go back so soon? "Yeah, kid?" _Don't listen. Don't listen to whatever she'll tell you. Don't—_

"I love you."

"Love you too, kid," Logan said, feigning nonchalance. It was true anyway, wasn't it?

"No," she replied. "I mean, I'm in—"

Logan let out the breath he was holding. Whoever was on the other side of the door, he was grateful for the distraction. He had never been so excited and disappointed to greet someone in since he came back. "Jean."

Jean raised a brow at him. "I see you've got company."

"Yeah, ah... Thanks. I mean, what did you need?"

"Why so flustered? Was I interrupting something?"

Logan cleared his throat and blocked Marie from the doctor's view. "It's not like that and you know it."

"That's not what you were projecting for half an hour now," she whispered, leaning close to him. "I thought you went for women—not girls."

"She's not—" What was he doing, digging his own grave? "Jean, what did you want?"

Jean pouted her freshly glossed lips. "I'm here to warn you about student-teacher relationships..."

Logan groaned, trying hard not to be annoyed. "_Jean_."

"Logan. You're so easy to rile up," Jean giggled and touched his bicep. "See you tomorrow for your first teachers' meeting." Flashing him a flirty smile, she turned around and walked away with an extra sway of her hips. _Ugh._ Women.

He regretted closing the door as he turned around to face Marie. "Red just told me we have a teacher's meeting tomorrow." Why did he explain? Because he knew she was jealous. He could smell it on her. He knew she hated it when he used the Red nickname.

Rogue bit the inside of her cheek, obviously trying to keep her temper in check. "Are you really going to pretend you didn't hear what I said?"

_Definitely not, but for now, I have to. I don't know how long. _Judging how she sat so comfortably on his pillow where he'll lay his head tonight, it was going to be _hard_ to forget. "Marie," Logan started, even if he didn't know what to say. This might make or break their relationship, but he had to make a stand now. She had a life to live. She was still too young. Besides, what was she going to do with an unpredictable idiot like him? He had too much baggage, too much everything. "You'll get over it."

It was meant to sting, and it did. Logan was well aware that she had so much going on in her head, but his Marie was probably going to test the waters and try again tomorrow. Marie wasn't a quitter...right? He tried to ignore how his heart sank when she got up from the bed and nodded, "Yeah, I should probably go."

_But you'll be back,_ he replied in his head. _You'll be back like always. You're too in love with me just as..._ "Marie, you know I love you, right?"

Marie just nodded again before she left, and he hated himself more than ever. But she _will_ be back. She will always wait for him. Because he was waiting for her too, he liked to think. He'll always be around anyway.

Finally, the beast inside his soul reared its angry head.

_And this is why I hate it when you take full control, shitface. _

_Yeah, fuck you too._

* * *

**AN:** SO YEAH. Thank you again to everyone who reviewed, favorited, and followed the story; you know who you are, so you have my love. :) Please, don't be shy and leave me more love. Until the next update! :)


	4. Awakening

**AN:** HELLO. Here's the latest chapter. Thank you again to those who favorite, follow, and review. You guys are awesome. :)

Note: Reposted thanks to **Gimpy1**. I hope this is better.

* * *

It happened in the middle of the day.

Rogue was training in the Danger Room with Kitty and Jubilee when she suddenly fell to the floor like a lifeless doll. As far as she can remember, they were at the initial level of the simulation, so it was safe to say physical exhaustion was out of the picture. She didn't eat anything funky earlier either.

It was like a bullet to the head. A piercing, sharp pain clouded her vision, and even if there was literally nothing that made contact with her skull, something drilled through her psyche so strong it made her collapse. Everything—from her brain cells to her hope—felt like exploding.

She had felt this before, but it wasn't of this intensity. It was so horrible that Rogue's self defense mechanism had chosen to give in to the mental assault rather than fight it. The last time this happened was when Magneto had abducted her. However, instead of being the recipient of powers and memories, it was happening on reverse. The memories and powers were pouring from her innermost self she didn't know existed.

Several months ago, a few days before being able to touch again, Rogue recalled how the Professor had guided her through the "Psyche Boxes" in her brain—mainly labeled Logan, Erik, Bobby, Pyro and Cody. The latter three were rather small and manageable, compared to the first two who were very dominant.

With Xavier's support, she had to lock and chain all of these boxes. Every session left her out of breath and drained whenever she came to awareness. Nevertheless, she knew it was worth it because she was making progress. Never mind she was secretly afraid to lose Logan and Erik's voices in her head.

The two mutants kept her occupied. For countless months they have filled the emptiness Rogue had been feeling since forever. Loneliness was out of the question when two living fossils made a hobby of commenting on everything you did. It was sad she had to depend on them to keep her sane, but there were times when Rogue wondered if she would rather give up on touch than give up on them.

But surely, the Professor didn't think this way. Whatever was left of her sanity and mostly because of Xavier's advice, she had successfully stored all the baggage away. Besides, she couldn't hide in her own world forever, could she?

There were side effects to this success though. There were still sleepless nights—instead of resting, she would unconsciously drift to the hypnotic state the Professor brought her to, and she would come face to face with the boxes she thought were buried forever.

At this time, Rogue became aware how she was possibly in the same soporific status. However, there was something peculiar in the usual dark space of her mind.

* * *

_Instead of experiencing the usual weightlessness where the boxes and she herself were afloat, her feet landed on solid ground. In what she used to call her personal black limbo, what was in front of her became a concrete plane with an endless horizon. The psyche boxes had transformed into little houses, each with an open door for easy access. The darkness faded, and everything was clear to her. There was not one cell of fear in her body as she made her way down the road. Amazingly, her mind had become a limitless field of possibilities._

_One house caught Rogue's attention. It was probably one of the biggest houses around. Compared to the others, there was yellow light glowing from the inside. Curious, Rogue walked right in. The door shut loudly behind her and there she stood face to face with the woman whom this house belonged to. Rogue was certain she had never seen her before, but the name dribbled like sweet poison from her lips, "Carol."_

_"Marie," the other person replied, flipping her long blonde hair from her shoulder. "I'm glad you're back..."_

_This was _not_ a house warming party._

_"Now we can finish what we started," Carol Danvers aka Miss Marvel uttered bitterly before punching her right in the face. It didn't take long until the superhero mutant beat her to a pulp._

_Rogue couldn't deny how she deserved the treatment, but this woman had to know one thing: "I. Own. You!" she mocked with a bloody nose, and caught Carol's fist with her right hand._

_In the middle of their fight, however, someone called her name and told her to open her eyes._

_So she did._

* * *

When she came to, Rogue wondered if it was all just a nightmare. Recognizing her surroundings, she concluded maybe it was not. Physically, she felt fine. Nothing felt broken or painful, and the killer migraine was surprisingly nonexistent.

No one was here too. Other than the sound of her own breathing, all she could hear was the distinct beeping of the heart monitor by her bedside. It was so loud it made her cringe. Taking deep breaths, she had to calm herself and tone down her ultra-sensitive ears.

_Enhanced hearing?_ Rogue gasped, eyes wide.

It wasn't a dream. Not when Carol Danver's angry and battered face was tattooed behind her eyelids. Slightly trembling, she got off the bed and stumbled to the door.

It was locked.

Why the fuck would they leave her alone like this? Were they that scared she might flip out on everyone? _Ha, let's see about that!_ Clenching her fist in anger, she punched the door and off it went from its hinges, into the wall across, breaking the concrete. She stared at the broken door, then her hand.

It didn't hurt. Not even one ounce of pain.

Had she always been this strong? The suppressed memories must have also subdued her true abilities. To think she had control all this time. How many times has she doubted herself? Unconsciously levitating herself from the floor, wrath began to seep through her veins.

She had to talk to Charles Xavier. Now.

* * *

When she met the Hulk a few months ago, Rogue didn't give it much thought. Now, though, she finally understood why Bruce Banner was generally a laid back dude. Unleashing the Hulk when he was angry was a great stress reliever; Rogue had never felt better smashing stuff on the way to the Professor's office.

By the time she got there, she had pulled a random ability from her head that enabled her to seal a telepathic shield inside the room (she would have to find out whom she got that from). She knew Charles Xavier couldn't run, nor would he try to take control of her because he can't, but there was no saying what his lackeys would do. He was such a beloved figure to everyone, after all. To think she thought of him the same.

"Rogue." He looked worried, and it was obviously because he couldn't read her mind. Not anymore. The only clue he had about what was happening was the wreckage that she left in her wake.

"You knew I was hiding those memories," she began calmly. "Why didn't you tell me?"

"They were locked for a reason, Rogue."

"Did you know who I was before I came here?"

"I had my suspicions, but I didn't think it was you."

Rogue snorted. "After so many sessions probing my brain, I'm sure you would've discovered my real identity, _Professor_."

"You asked me to help control your mutation, and that's what I did. I did not want to add more pressure to your current condition."

Nothing made sense. Even if the Professor had her best interests in mind, he hadn't been completely honest with her. If her memories hadn't come back, he would have been fine keeping her in the dark about her past? Was he underestimating her abilities, thinking she couldn't handle it?

Please. _Logan_ himself couldn't handle his own past—and she handled that, and more! Unimpressed with his answer, Rogue crossed her arms on her chest. "I killed one of your best people—killed one of your _friends_. How could you have kept me here?"

"I know Carol would have wanted you to stay as well, if it meant you would have a chance at a new life—"

"You don't know everything, Charles!" Magneto came out on her own free will, just because she thought it was fitting. It brought out the desired result; Charles looked defeated—at least momentarily; only his best friend/arch nemesis could do that to him. "For the record, Carol wants to kill me for what happened."

"Regardless," Charles Xavier said, "This is what this school is about, Rogue. You are always welcome. This is your home. _I_ want you here."

"You knew Mystique was my mother."

"I only became aware of your shared past during one of our sessions." The Professor sighed. "Honestly, I don't think she remembers either. For obvious reasons, I decided to withhold this information from her as well."

Just on cue, the phone rang.

"It's her," he said. "Please take the call."

Hands shaking, she picked up the phone. "Hello?"

"Raven. Marie."

_Mother, _she thought instantly as she heard Mystique's voice.

"_You're just like me, but prettier." _

"_We are like sponges." _

"Mystique," she replied instead. This was the same woman who tried to kill Logan. The same woman who pretended to be Bobby, tricking her into leaving school. "What happened?"

"I'm trying to find out why."

"Are you alright?" Rogue asked quietly, unable to help herself.

Mystique only exhaled. "Stay there. I will find you. Be safe." The phone dropped dead.

A strange sense of relief had filled her after hearing Mystique's voice. It felt like she had just made a call from home. She hated it and strangely loved it at the same time. However, just as usual—Mystique told her what to do. Just like the Professor. Just like everyone else in her life. She walked to the window. "I have to go."

"Rogue, she is a danger to you. She _has_ used your powers for evil. I advise you not to return to her."

"I never had a father, and you're not mine," she said, pushing the window open. "Still, thank you for all you've done. Goodbye, Professor."

* * *

Storming into her room, Rogue was quick to pack her things. Jackets. Hoodies. Gloves. Why did this shit have to happen now? She wasn't fucking ready. Then again, who was ever ready for happenings such as these?

No one was rushing to her room yet—except for that one person of course.

"Marie!" Logan burst through the door, looking bewildered and tired. "What the fuck is happening?"

Rogue could only imagine how many times he asked that since she escaped the med bay. She ignored his question, and she tried not to look surprised when Logan suddenly grasped her bare shoulders in his hands.

"MARIE!" he yelled, obviously distressed. "What happened to you?!" He crushed her in his embrace, squeezing her so tight she could hear his heartbeat pounding wildly against his ribcage. Had she not been impenetrable, she would have been crushed.

Rogue wanted to stay like that, even just for a little bit. Wanted to cry and cling to him, tell him everything was not ok. Although her memories have returned, nothing made sense. She was lost and confused. _Take me away, please. _But all she could say was what she felt for him. "I love you."

"I love you, Marie," he cried. "Please tell me what's going on, darlin'. Let me make it better."

It was funny how at times like these, when you're most vulnerable, and someone finally reaches out to you is the time you'll feel the weirdest strength to push away. It must be bitterness or irony—Rogue didn't know, but something inside her snapped. He can't do anything. He can't make things better. If anything—he made it worse. He made her weak and that made her mad. "Logan, let me go."

"No. Tell me what's going on."

"I'm giving you five seconds to get your hands off me."

In the past, didn't his hugs make her feel better? Knowing contact was her weakness, he'd hug everything out of her. If she felt bullied, he would hug her. If she felt scared, he would hug her. If she felt inadequate, he would hug her. He let the hugging do the talking for him. God knows he was bad with words.

He laughed then, probably amused she was unsheathing her kitty claws at him. He thought she would just be the damsel in distress, the weirdo with the deadly skin who needed the Wolverine to save her. He thought she was still Marie, the girl who was infatuated with him because he was the strongest man she knew. Boy would he be surprised.

"Five," she whispered, and with a flick of her wrists—Logan slammed hard against the wall with a crunch, just like the senseless, dense door from downstairs. He stared at her then, his hazel eyes wide with fear, confusion and wonder. She was floating too, her flight powers activating. He tried moving, but with a glare from her—Erik's powers manifesting, he was glued to the floor.

Done with packing, she hoisted the bag over her shoulder. "I'm going," she whispered to herself in revelation.

Then, their little world broke down to pieces, and they finally heard the commotion outside. Someone was pounding at the door, screaming, asking for Logan. Asking for her. So many questions, so many emotions...

But it was time to stand on her own feet, even if it meant going through another beginning.

Flying out the window, Rogue thought for once, it was nice not to give a fuck.


	5. So It Begins

It happened right in the middle of Logan's first self defence class.

Jean's scream of terror erupted from the room down the hallway. Telling the kids to stay put, he rushed with the other teachers to find out why she was so distressed. When the other students began to gather outside to see what happened to the naturally calm doctor, he was the one who yelled at them to go back to their rooms.

For a moment, Logan feared it was the Phoenix—and maybe it was. When he entered Jean's classroom, he found Scott already there, trying to soothe her in his arms.

Jean looked horrible, like someone punched her in the face. She was almost as red as her hair, and tears were streaming down her face. She would have probably stripped herself naked if Scott didn't hold her upright. "No, no, no!" she cried. "What's happening!? What's happening!"

"Honey, please tell me what's wrong," Scott pleaded, but his wife was so out of it. He didn't get any response, but when she laid her eyes on Logan, she began to cry hysterically.

"Logan!" she sobbed. "Everything is falling apart!" Considering the disaster that happened because of the Phoenix was currently nonexistent, it was disconcerting to hear Jean so frazzled and broken. "Why did you leave me!?"

Logan and Scott immediately looked at each other, and the former was quick to shake his head in denial. Nothing happened. "Don't look at me, bub—"

Jean tore free from her husband's grip and the first thing she did was to clutch her long nails on Logan's plaid shirt. Eyes bloodshot, she whispered one name that made his face pale, "M-MARIE!"

* * *

Logan didn't even remember going to the med bay. All he knew was that Marie was in danger and he wasn't fast enough to get there. When he arrived, he half expected to find her the same way he did Jean, but instead, what greeted him was a picture of the complete opposite. Marie lay on the bed motionless like Sleeping Beauty. It was a picture of peace and serenity—if it weren't for the people panicking around her.

Jubilee looked like she had been crying as she paced back and forth across the room. Kitty, however, looked like she was shocked beyond words. When Logan entered the room, she only opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Hank was also there, continuously checking Rogue's vitals.

"What happened?" Logan asked, walking to the bed. She was completely still, you'd think she was dead. She was still wearing her training uniform, her hair still tied up on a high ponytail.

"We don't know," Jubilee replied, her usual bubbly self replaced by worry and fear. "We were just training, then she suddenly collapsed." She looked at Kitty, who only nodded. "She was fine before this. You know we check vitals before training."

"She was sad," Kitty said, glancing at Logan like she knew something, but didn't say a word. "It must be her powers. We couldn't touch her for a few minutes when she fell."

"I just called the Professor," Hank announced. "He needs to check on her personally, I reckon. I'll keep you posted if anything changes."

Not one to wait around, Logan made his way back up the mansion only to be intercepted by the man himself. "I thought she said you guys worked on her control? She's not waking up!" He didn't mean to sound so angry at the old man who did nothing but to help his friend, but he couldn't keep his temper down.

Charles Xavier didn't say anything until he was by Rogue's bedside. Closing his eyes, he pressed his temple and frowned. He looked like he was struggling, and the longer he tried to communicate with Rogue's mind, the more distressed he appeared. After a few minutes, he finally opened his eyes, and was very out of breath. He slowly wheeled back his seat a few feet from the bed. "Her... her mind is at chaos. I cannot open a link to talk to her. She has shielded her thoughts from me."

"What the fuck?" Logan pressed. "Try again, goddammit!"

To be honest, Charles looked disappointed at his inability to reach out to her. He simply shook his head. "She is far too deep in her own mind. I will try again when she is more relaxed."

"Maybe Jean—"

"_Will_ help when she has recovered herself," the Professor cut him off. "Jean had channeled Rogue's psyche because it projected too loud, not because she purposely wanted to invade her mind."

Logan felt lost. "Should I touch her?" Maybe he can lessen her pain? Distract her from it?

"Restrain yourself, Logan," the Professor warned. "All we can do for now is give Rogue time to rest. If I attempt to enter her mind again, she will only reject me and it will cause further damage. The same thing will happen if you will add more of yourself into her already tumultuous mental state."

"I can't just sit here doing nothing!"

"Logan, you don't always have to make a sacrifice or move mountains to prove how much you care. Sometimes," he said. "You just have to stay."

* * *

And stay Logan did.

Six days and counting, Logan practically lived in the med bay. Hank didn't even bother shooing him away. He was the only one given a free pass to stay by Rogue's side despite the school week. Besides, they literally couldn't budge him even if they wanted to.

Logan decided he didn't like seeing her so quiet. She wasn't touching him. Wasn't talking. Marie was usually so chit-chatty around him; it was worrying to have her lay so still beside him. Her rosy skin had considerably paled, and if it weren't for Hank's constant reassurance about her well-being, he would have thought she was dead. At times, when he fell into short naps, he almost believed he was sitting at her wake. It scared the shit out of him.

When Hank was finally off duty, that's when Logan talked to her. He told her about the things he discovered about his past—things he wouldn't usually talk about: World War III, Japan, the first woman he remembered whom he loved and lost, Canada, bits and pieces of his childhood, and Victor Creed. He even told her the receding memories about changing the future of both humans and mutants.

"And you didn't need to," he said, when he told her about the cure she took just to get rid of her mutation in the alternate reality, "Not ever. I would have touched you anyway." Logan then cupped her cheek with his palm and felt the soft magnet of her power. The pull was not strong enough to get anything from him. He didn't believe the Professor. They both knew Marie could never have just enough of him in her system. How else was she to know he was here, waiting for her?

Then again, those happened on the good days. There were times when Logan snapped, losing his temper because she wouldn't talk back. "Talk to me, for fuck's sake!" And when he caught himself acting like a damn fool, he would cover his face with his hands, or bury his nose on the bedside and breathe in her scent. Wasn't this karmic—to pour out all his emotions on her and have no response at all?

"I love you, Marie. I'm here for you. I'm always here, darlin'." Logan always waited for her to respond, tell him she loved him too, but there was nothing.

There was only silence.

* * *

The next day, after not getting any decent sleep for an entire week, Logan finally caved in when Hank blatantly told him he looked like a truck run him over. His healing factor wasn't working properly—not when his heart was non-stop worrying over the young lady on the bed.

"Logan, you should take a nap. Have some time off. I assure you: I will call you if something comes up."

"I don't think so—"

"Can you do it for me?" the blue furry man sighed. "You haven't showered for days, and you aren't the only one with enhanced senses."

Logan laughed for the first time in a long time. "You have a point. I'm starting to smell myself anyway."

"You're welcome to come back after a full night's sleep _and_ a shower."

"You got it, Blue," he said with a yawn. "Now, make sure to call me—"

"I give you my word."

Giving his Sleeping Beauty one last look, Logan nodded. "I'll be quick."

"Shower and sleep, Logan," Hank reminded him before he left.

Logan was certain he had only less than two hours of shuteye when someone burst through his door. He didn't even remember who it had been, or ask why. All he knew was that he had to get down to the med bay STAT. From the distance, he could hear pounding, breaking glass. He ran faster. When he finally got to Hank, the big guy was against the wall, his glasses discarded and broken on the floor.

"What the fuck happened!?" he asked, although he had a nagging suspicion why. Seeing the empty bed, he was outraged. Memories of the train, losing her to Magneto—everything came back to him like a bad punch to the gut, and he pounced on the first person to blame. In a blink of an eye, he was on Hank, clutching the white coat with his strong hands, shaking him furiously. "WHO HAS HER!?"

Disoriented, Hank merely groaned in response. It was Ororo who rushed to his side, trying to pry his adamantium clutch on the doctor. "No one kidnapped her, Logan!" she pleaded, trying to calm him down. "This was all Rogue!"

"Rogue?" The name was suddenly strange to his ears. It just didn't make sense. It didn't connect. How could his sweet Marie be capable of this? Looking around, everything was a big mess. There were huge holes on the wall, and most of Hank's scientific tools were broken, judging it was where she probably threw him. "What the hell...?"

"LOGAN! What are you doing!?" Ororo tried to get his attention. "She went to the Professor! HURRY!"

The wreckage reminded him of the Phoenix. Books, lamps, rugs, plants—everything was a mess. Windows were broken and doors were almost off their hinges.

When he finally got to the Professor's study, the door was closed, and only Scott and Jean were there, looking as distressed as Ororo. Both of them were sitting by the door, like the wind had been knocked out of them. They were not spared from the Rogue's rage, it seemed. "What the fuck is happening?"

"Weren't you supposed to be watching her?!" Scott demanded angrily.

"Scott, he left for a second it wasn't his fault," Jean tried console her husband, and she only stopped Logan when he tried to bust through the door. "No! Don't. You'll make it worse, Logan."

Scott helped his wife off the floor. "The door is sealed from the inside. The entire room is."

"Maybe the Professor can help her this way?" Logan asked, feeling stupid for saying it. Truthfully, he felt so lost. He didn't understand one thing that was happening. Marie did all this? His Marie?

"It's not the Professor who's keeping us out, Logan," Jean said. "It's Rogue."

"What..."

"What did happen last week, Jean?" Scott asked suddenly, putting a firm hand on her shoulder. "You never did tell me about it."

Jean started to take deep breaths. "I told the Professor about it, but all we could do was hope for the best."

"What happened?" Logan insisted.

"Apparently, she had sealed memories inside her before you found her years ago. And last week, she those 'seals' suddenly broke. Everything came back to her, and you know those memories also included personas of people she had absorbed prior meeting you." Jean tried to keep her voice from shaking. "And I channeled her unconsciously because the outpour of her memories were too overwhelming, that even..." she paused, took a deep breath first. "Even I almost lost control of my own demon."

Jean leaned on Scott while he ran his hand up and down her back, trying to comfort her. "The entire week, the Professor had been helping me to keep my... situation under control."

"You guys were supposed to be helping _her_!"

"Don't you think we tried?!" Jean retorted. "We tried to reach out to her telepathically but it didn't work. Her previous memories knew perfectly how to keep us out. Her barriers were too strong and like I said, all we could do was hope that Rogue would help herself because it's really beyond what we can do. We tried contacting another telepath, but when we called her—she refused when she found out it was Rogue. She said she couldn't even if she tried." Jean put her hands up. "Believe me, we were more than surprised."

Logan walked to the door and raised his fist to knock, but stopped. He couldn't hear anything from the other side. "Marie..." he whispered. Suddenly, the door burst open, only to reveal the Professor inside, gasping for air. Scott and Jean rushed to his side. Just like it was downstairs, there was another huge hole on the window.

_Go, Logan,_ Charles Xavier told him with worried eyes. _You have to make her stay._

_Oh I will_, he replied in his head, but honestly—he wasn't so sure it was his choice anymore.

##

Her scent led him to her room. After watching her motionless for days and hours on end, there she was—packing her things. "MARIE!" he exclaimed, closing the door behind him. "What the fuck is happening?"

Marie didn't bother looking at him. In fact, she looked furious. It was odd to see her suddenly full of life in comparison to the vegetable she had been. He was relieved and worried at the same time. "Go away," she said under her breath.

Not wasting another second, Logan yelled out her name and grasped her shoulders._ Stop for a second, will ya?!_ "What happened to you!?" He clutched her tight in his arms, still thankful she was in one piece. He didn't know what he would do if Magneto took her again. She was alive and that's what was important. He smoothed her hair, tried to calm her down. But she wasn't happy. She was agitated. Crazy.

"Logan," her small voice came. "I love you."

"I love you, Marie," he begged. "Please tell me what's going on, darlin'. Let me make it better." He had never meant anything that much his entire life.

"Logan, let me go."

"No," he replied, squeezing her harder. _Never_. "Tell me what's going on."

"I'm giving you five seconds to get your hands off me."

Marie never said that. It was foreign to his ears. She loved him, didn't she? She always loved his touch. Cherished it. He felt it. Surely, she was just frightened? If only they could go back. But Logan knew they could if they wanted to. He found himself chuckling at the memory of the two of them, always together. They've been through a lot. She didn't really mean what she said, did she?

"Five," she whispered, and the next thing he knew, a strong force had pushed him against the wall. He heard and felt the distinct _crunch _of the concrete from the impact.

_What the fuck? _

Logan looked at her like she was a different person. And she probably was._ No, this is my Marie_, he argued in his head. So he tried to move, but the familiar weight of Magneto's powers settled down his bones. _Fuck_. He felt like screaming, but he couldn't even move his jaw. He didn't even realize that the room was sealed shut now. There were people on the other side—Jean, Scott, Ororo—all of them wanted to know what was going on. But he kept his gaze on her.

In those delicate moments, Logan memorized the way she looked, just because he had a feeling she would go. Just like he did every time. Marie would sit on his bed, watch him pack. And she always looked so lonely, like someone kicked a puppy in front of her. But his pretty Marie was all sad because he had to go.

_Marie_. To think Logan never doubted her, not once. He always knew she was strong (although not physically overpowering like what she just did). He was confident of her more than she was of herself. He just wanted her to need him sometimes.

Wasn't it amusing that he had been thinking about nothing but her since he returned to the school? How could he not? Look at her. She was a knockout.

_My perfect 10. _

"I'm going," she told herself, for the first time in Logan's life, making him feel invisible. Rogue didn't even look at him when she flew out the window.

_Fuck. She can fly now?_

When her scent had gone, so did her hold on his adamantium ribcage.

Hours later, after waking up from a much-needed sleep, Logan realized the school he called home suddenly became an open cage with annoying children and overbearing adults.

The open road was waiting for him; _Come get me, Logan._

_Oh I will, Marie. Just you wait. _

* * *

_**AN:** Thanks for reading! Honestly, I have no idea why Logan's parts are longer than Rogue's. Lol. Anyway, don't be shy and leave me a review. ;) Thanks to everyone who continues to support the writing of this fic. :) 'Til the next chapter! :) _


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